The Slimline Royal Family Diet

Despite her 50 year reign I pretty much had never heard of Margrethe II of Denmark until she came down with COVID-19 following Queen Elizabeth II's funeral a couple of weeks ago. Sorry. But I was today years old when I decided I don't like her. Not sorry.

CONTEXT:

Margrethe Alexandrine Þórhildur Ingrid was born in 1940 making her 82 years old. In 1967 she married Henri de Laborde de Monpezat, known as Henrik, who died in 2018 aged 83.
The couple had two children, both born before her reign began - Crown Prince Frederik, who is 54 and Prince Joachim, 53.

So the story is that to slim-down and modernise the Danish Royal Family she is stripping Joachim's children(^) of their titles, effective from the New Year.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/sep/29/denmarks-queen-margrethe-strips-four-grandchildren-of-royal-titles

Crown Prince Frederik married Mary Donaldson in 2004. They have four children:

• Prince Christian, who is nearly 17
• Princess Isabella, 15
• Twins, Prince Vincent and Princess Josephine, who are 11

Prince Joachim first married Alexandra Manley in 1995. They had two children before divorcing in 2005.

• Prince Nikolai, 23^
• Prince Felix, 20^

Prince Joachim remarried in 2008 to Marie Cavallier and they had two children together:

• Prince Henrik, 13^
• Princess Athena, 10^

Just think about that for a moment. The cardinal rule of parenting is to treat your children equally. Of course, life doesn't work like that: one son will be King, the other will not. But this just smacks of favouritism. The golden child, the heir, gets everything; the spare not only gets nothing but his children get stripped THROUGH NO FAULT OF HIS OR THEIR OWN what they have had since birth.

I've already seen from social media responses that there's a loud contingent of 'aw diddums, poor little rich kids' but that's REALLY NOT THE POINT. It's about the inherent unfairness of treating one group of grandchildren differently because they were not born to the favoured child. The wrong of taking back a gift. 
So I make no apology for the overuse of the word 'imagine' in the following rant. Whether or not you approve of royalty is irrelevant; put yourself in the shoes of a young man in his early 20s or a girl of 10 and imagine your granny doing something this unkind.

"The official reason was to allow the four children of her youngest son, Prince Joachim, to live more normal lives"

I've argued this before with Britain's (or America's) Harry and Meghan - stepping back from Royal Duties and / or renouncing titles does not a commoner make. Especially regards the security concessions (amounting to the team he is paying for being given any relevant information) Harry has asked for - opting out does not reduce or negate the RISK OF ASSASSINATION. Harry, Meghan, Archie & Lilibet will always be potential targets whatever their titles or roles, as will Nikolai, Felix, Henrik and Athena. This in no way affects who they are, for all it cuts at their personal sense of identity.

"With her decision, her Majesty the Queen wants to create a framework, for the four grandchildren, to a much greater degree, to be able to shape their existence without being limited by the special considerations and obligations that a formal affiliation with the Royal House as an institution implies."

Do you know what affiliation means? It means 'adopted as a son'. These are actual sons (and daughter) who are not adopted (which presumes that adoption is any less than biology), by unaffiliating them from the Royal House literally means rejecting them as family. How can that be anything other than cruel?

It is barking mad that Queen Margrethe thinks switching out 'Prince' and 'Princess' for 'Count' and 'Countess' would give them any more freedom over their personal destinies. There is nothing you can do as a count that you can't as a prince. It makes zero sense to me.

"They can't understand why their identity is being taken from them." 

This quote refers to the older two children as it was made by their mother but I imagine this will be just as hard on the younger two. Most little girls go through a phase of wanting to be a princess... poor little Athena *is* a Princess and is having it snatched away. I can't imagine any of them being disposed kindly toward their grandmother for this. Even at Nikolai's twenty-three I can't see this as being 'understandable'.

I've seen people comment that it's just a title, not their identity. Ye gods... Imagine you are a doctor... you get to keep your qualification but you are no longer allowed to use the title. Would you be hurt and angry about that? Maybe because that's something a Dr worked hard for you think it is different to a hereditary title... so imagine instead you have your SURNAME stripped. Your grandma has decided you're surplus to requirements so you no longer get to use the name you have had since birth. 
Maybe your title (Mr, Miss, Mrs, Ms, Mx) is irrelevant to you but it is literally still part of your name whether you use it or not. Also, if you *choose* to change your name (by deed poll, by marriage, whatever then that's a CHOICE) but imagine someone suddenly deciding you're no longer allowed to use the one you have. Your parents may be cruel, may reject you, but I know of no culture where they have the right or ability to take your familial identity away.

My parents didn't see fit to give me either of their names. Perhaps you will think that means, never having experienced that sense of belonging, that I don't know what I am talking about. Naturally, I believe the reverse is true - that I am fully cognisant of the sense of fundamental rejection that comes with being denied what is normally considered your birthright. It makes you feel neither fish, flesh nor good red herring. Bad enough from birth, I can't imagine the pain of being rejected anew at an age enough to understand.

I can understand, to an extent, the logic for sliming down the Royal Houses of Europe but there are far better ways of doing such things. For starters, how about offering the kids a CHOICE when they come of age? Rather than expecting Frederik's children to become working royals ASK THEM. It'd be quite something if Christian, Isabella, Vincent and Josephine were to reject the job, huh? If I were one of those siblings that'd be what I'd suggest - that we all ganged up against the system in solidarity with our cousins. Strike action!
Another idea would be to decide that, apart from the direct heir, no one's spouse would receive a title on marriage and no one's children would have a title either. It'd just be a matter of time until it slimmed down naturally. Far less hurtful too.

"Only the future king, Prince Christian, will receive an appenage, a decision taken in 2016"

An appenage is described as 'a grant of land or revenue' gifted when the royal child comes of age. Note the timing of this change - just as Nikolai was approaching his coming-of-age. The average family equivalent might be throwing a granddaughter a Quinceanera and then changing your mind when your eldest granddaughter hits fourteen... while promising to do one for just one of their (younger) cousins. Although a party is obviously not directly comparable to a gift that sets a kid up for life it's still going to be a bitter disappointment; expecting a celebration and being denied. Sure, that's a very privileged gift to receive but imagine being led to expect such a thing your whole life only to be told it's not happening practically on the eve? Not kind. And to keep that gift in place for the one kid who very specifically doesn't need it (because they stand to inherit everything)? Weird.

That was bad enough as it was a gift not yet given but taking back a gift, whether it's a child's Lego set or royal titles, is a big no-no. 

All I know is that if I treat my grandkids as shoddily as Queen Margrethe is doing I'd be disowned. And they'd be damned right too.

Home A Year

Obviously I've blogged about this before and, presumably, will do so again - so I'll put the next bit in blue so if you're familiar with the background story you can just skip ahead.

On Monday 16th April 2018 my mum (then 73) had a severe stroke. To us it was blatantly obvious, to trained medical 'professionals' it was a mystery; while she was in A&E they seemed to think she was there with a stomach bug of all things! A consultant in Acute Care the next day said it definitely wasn't a stroke...5 hours later they confirmed it was - as we recently discovered, the NHS can't even record a stroke as affecting both hemispheres of the brain cos their software just won't accept that as being a thing. The usual FAST symptoms don't apply, or at least not so clearly: no facial drooping, no one-sided weakness - because EVERYTHING is affected. My mum was in hospital for nine-and-a-half weeks; this blog marks one year since I brought her home.

There was never a question that my mum would come here after her stroke, it wasn't a 'decision', it wasn't 'considered', it was just how it was going to be. We got the call at 8pm and I stayed with mum until she was admitted to Acute Care a little after 4am. I walked the four miles home, mooching, catching Pokemon, trying to wrap my head around what we'd been through that night... getting in about half past six. Collapsed into bed and got up at 8am when my dad rang for a status update.

At that point we felt certain it was a stroke, but there was still a chance that the 'experts' knew what they were talking about and that whilst she seemed desperately unwell it might pass with little-to-no long-term consequences. It just never really crossed my mind that a day or two (even a week or two) in hospital and she'd be fine. Instinct said this was it: major life changing event.

HOWEVER, even at that point I was planning for my mum to come stay with me. Even if our hunch came down to nothing more than paranoia whatever the problem was she was bound to be weak and in need of some looking after. I had already started looking around the house thinking how best to tidy / rearrange furniture in order to make things more comfortable for her.

I did not however think about the long term. Partly cos I feared we didn't have one, partly cos my grandad lived to 91 after his big stroke SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER. If my mum's future runs to those lines I'll be looking after her until I'm what 55?! And then where will I be? No savings, no pension, precious little chance of a job... 
I was relieved she survived the first year past the stroke but as we then closed in on the anniversary of her homecoming (21st June) the weight of the future really started bearing down on me. A couple of weeks ago I hit a really low patch.

Y'all can think I'm selfish - I don't care. I had a miserable childhood; my parents were not nurturing / affectionate / supportive / whatever. I was bullied at school and my parents didn't want to know. I wonder if my grandad's stroke, when I was 6, may have been a significant factor in my parents' disintrest in all things Heggie-related. At 16 they forced me into an abortion. At 17 I was a single mother and still desperate to get as far away from them as I could manage - I laughed at people who said things like "you'll really need your mum now" like that was even a thing. I got as far as Somerset...where they bought a house for me to rent, ensuring I'd never escape their influence. Twenty-odd years later and my youngest has reached adulthood...and I moved back home-adjacent cos I was out of options after decades on welfare and minimum wage jobs while I raised my kids and earned my degree.
I might've had to come home but my kids were grown, I had my BA - SURELY this was my time??? I had hopes and dreams - I wanted a social life, to meet people, to pursue my interests, to travel. And here I am stuck at home again, drudging. I have no income.
I have been single since my kids' dad walked out...in 1998. And I mean SINGLE. No dates, no friends with benefits, NOTHING. Now I'll never meet anyone, let alone anything more. I kinda suspected after all these years alone that'd be how it went but foolishly I'd still hoped.
I'm grieving hard for the life I wanted, the life I'll now never have. 
Cos even as and when my mum's gone I'm still responsible for my dad (who is an almighty asshat) and my 'stepdad' (who is less of an asshat but only came into my life in my late 20s). AND I DON'T WANNA! 
Firstly, cos I have no inclination to 'caring' - being stuck at home with my kids was hell enough. I am agender and all this caring, cleaning, domestic drudgery shit is entirely too much of a feminine cliche for me to want to touch it with a barge pole.
Secondly, because I describe my familial feelings as Stockholm Syndrome-esque. It's about enforced proximity and bonding through trauma.
But mostly because I want to have MY life. Shit childhood, shit adulthood and everything has been about other people; my parents, grandparents, my kids...no one has ever put me first so why the hell shouldn't I? I just need the dratted opportunity!
I did not have a good relationship with either of my parents before this and the current situation has only made it worse cos we can't escape each other. I wish I was the sort of person who could dump annoying elderly relatives at the gates of a care home and walk away without a qualm. It would be so much easier.

I can't tell you how much I just want to ditch everything and GO...not that have anywhere to go, you understand. Or the resources to get there. To be honest though, just being able to leave the house would be something. Mum doesn't want to go out, she doesn't want people here. I am so bored.

This article (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/newsbeat-48458760) is about new mums struggling with changes to their bodies after childbirth and linking it with more profound loss of identity - "I think it's really important in that transition between young woman to mother that people are actually allowed to grieve the loss of their old identity." Well, that's what I've been doing - grieving for the person I was finally becoming.
My midlife crisis was FABULOUS. So many hair colours, gigs, tattoos, piercings...getting out, meeting people (bless the Lost Hearts!), working on the self-confidence I hadn't lost...I'd never had any!

In the last couple of days I've had a glimmer of hope...The Broken Kings (the band 3/5 of my beloved Fearless Vampire Killers have since become) have announced their 1st ever live performance - supporting former LostAlone front man Steven Battelle. With the help of my younger beastie I AM GOING!!! Also the combined blessings that it's somewhere I can get to and from fairly easily from here (and won't cost the earth to do so), and the fact it's almost 2 weeks before her new semester begins. My adults can look after her (she also agreed to it, I hasten to add) for one evening so I can have a very special break.

So that's where I'm at. Glad my mum's doing okay, but generally fucking miserable because I'm not. 

Understanding and Forgiveness

This blog is directly linked to my last: '22 - 40 - 70-something'

I have always been the sort of mum to talk to my kids; to explain things that are going on in an age appropriate way and not to hide stuff from them. One thing that particularly bugs me is parents who, when expecting a new baby, avoid having The Talk with their kids when it's the perfect opportunity to do so. My daughter Erin was 4 when her great granddad died and like everything else I explained to her why everyone was sad but that he had been very ill for a long time. Just as at age 2 I explained how she was going to become a big sister and at 5 and a half I explained 9/11 to her as best I could.

I did not have a happy childhood. One of the worst parts was being at a certain primary school, between the ages of 6.5 and 9.5, where I had a rough time being bullied by my teacher. I felt that by age 9 my parents, my mother especially, had lost all interest in me. In trying to explain what was happening at school I was told to "fight your own battles" which a kid of that age clearly can't do and I felt utterly abandoned. In year 5 I finally got out of that school but the damage was done; beyond criticising my grades and perceived lack of effort at school they didn't seem to care anymore, then, when my behaviour deteriorated in consequence, that was just another thing to have a go at me for.

Despite now being 40 I have had a realisation about all this just in these last couple of weeks - and more than ever I advocate HONESTY and talking to even very young children.

When I was 6 years old my parents moved house (to a fixer-upper, they would spend YEARS putting it right) and I was enrolled at that school where I had such a hard time. Also when I was 6 my granddad had a severe and debilitating stroke; he died when I was 22. Although I associate my difficulties with a few years later I now see the connection.

Sadly I only came to this realisation now my own situation mirrors it somewhat. I moved into this house (with a fair few teething troubles) nearly 9 months ago, I have been struggling with stress in my 'new' job...and now my mum has had severe and debilitating strokes. On the plus side my children are now 19 & 22 and far better equipped to understand and deal with my being extremely worried and distracted.

Now I realise what a tough time my parents were going through, my mother especially. Obviously I knew my granddad was ill and in hospital, later that he was home and disabled but, as I saw it, he was old and that happens. I don't think I especially lacked empathy for my mother but I certainly didn't understand just how stressful it was for her - because she didn't tell me - maybe it sounds ridiculous but even as a full-grown adult with full-grown adult children of my own I could not have imagined just 3 weeks ago how traumatic this would be. I knew my mum was worried when her dad was in hospital and later I knew she had a rough time caring for her parents so that they could stay in their own home, but only now do I get an inkling of what that entailed.

I wish my parents had talked to me more, back then especially but at all other times as well; I wish that I had had a better chance to understand. Maybe I'd still have been a needy little shit but I could have tried to add less to their burdens.

As the only child of a stay-at-home mum I expected more attention - I literally got picked on because other kids were jealous I had that, but it sucked being so alone all the time. Kids NEED parenting support, I can't judge myself too harshly for wanting something I needed so badly.

I do feel bad that I've been a teenager, an adult, a mum since then and I still didn't get it but it's the domino effect. Because of how I grew up feeling neglected I've seen the world in a certain light, and at no point over the years have we talked about what happened with my granddad and how it affected our family. I wish I had come to understand this without my mother having to go through all this - sadly it may be true that you can't understand until you have walked in someone else's shoes... Maybe it would have been different if I had ever related my childhood experience with my granddad's stroke.

Over the last 2 weeks I have had an awakening - I understand so much more what was going on in my childhood and how that has affected my relationship with my parents right up to the present day. I even understand better why they reacted so badly to my teenage pregnancies. They were going through so much but I just thought, because of the suffering I was going through, that they hated me. Finally, I feel like I can forgive.

Sour Apples

It has been quite a while since I last blogged and I apologise for coming back on a sour note.

Today I am feeling...resentful.

My sort of step dad is going into hospital today for surgery tomorrow due to suspected bowel cancer. He's a wonderful bloke and I'm very concerned for him - yet cautiously optomistic as, so far, all the tests have come back clear. My mum has been with him since the alarm bells sounded (they don't live together, hence the "sort of") and I don't resent the fact he's getting the care and support he needs. Not at all. I'm glad she's come through for him. Nuturing isn't in her nature.

Meanwhile, my dad has been expressing concern for his on/off girlfriend who has recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer of the mother. I don't like the sound of the mother in the slightest but I sympathise with what her daughter is going through, and will go through in the coming months.

So what is it that I resent? I resent that when I was going through my last cancer scare 4 years ago my mum didn't come and hold MY hand through all the appointments... Not, I suppose, that I really would've wanted her there but I don't think it ever occurred to her that I might need support.

I don't mean to sound like a stroppy adolescent but I've never felt loved or cared for by my parents. I'm an independent minded woman because I've had to be. I learned early in life that being sick or injured wouldn't make any difference. If my kid had been hit by a car at age 7 I'd have been beside myself with worry; I'd have cried and held my child for hours and I'm not exactly Ms Maternal myself. That's not how it was when I was hit by a car...

My ex left me just before my first cancer scare when I was 20. He was the only person I'd ever really believed cared about me but as I lay in hospital, frightened and alone after emergency surgery at 15 weeks pregnant with our second child, he told me on the phone he couldn't be bothered to visit me and bring me in a nightie. My parents were over a hundred miles away.

So, four years ago, I'd found another lump. My mum was taking me and my kids on holiday and I found the mass just hours before we were due to depart. I told my mum straight away and her reaction was to carry on regardless: a week's delay in going to a doctor wouldn't make any difference...after all, it had been okay last time! I agreed, partly cos I knew she'd be furious if I insisted on staying behind.

It WAS okay. Perhaps they were worried about me and didn't show it so as not to frighten me more than I already was... But ultimately I don't believe that.

I don't want to be needy and greedy and selfish but I wish so badly that I had someone I KNEW loved me, knew there was someone who'd be there at the drop of a hat to hold me and tell me everything would be all right. It frightens me that instead this searing loneliness may be all I'll ever know.

I want my step dad to be okay. I don't want to feel this way. I want to feel like a 33 year old independent woman and not like a lost and lonely child...

Mi Familia

I don't suppose anyone is remotely interested but as I've mentioned my sort-of-step-dad a few times on Twitter lately I felt I should clarify the situation for future reference.

First to explain my parents - they are two of the most screwed up individuals I have ever met. They were screwed up before they met and succeeded in making each other worse. They are difficult enough people individually but together...let's just say my childhood was decidedly odd.

My mother got pregnant with me...this presumably seemed like a good idea at the time but backfired on her spectacularly. Just like me, my mother wouldn't recognise a maternal instinct if it jumped up and bit her on the bum - like millions of other women throughout history she thought she could win my dad's affection this way. My dad (who I also call Pogsy for no adequate reason) never got over his resentment of this; my mum never got over the disappointment and I got well and truly screwed up being caught in the middle.

Strangely, my parents actually got on quite well for people who despised each other. This only served to confuse me even more! They developed a kind of friendship from being stuck with each other.

My parents split up when I was about 25. I was rather disappointed they couldn't have done it 20 years earlier...or better yet, before my conception therefore avoiding a lot of trouble.

My dad is still single - he will fall for married women... My mum has had a few boyfriends and for several years now has been with Neville bringing us back to the sort-of-step-dad issue.

My mother has no interest in getting married again (my mum and dad never married but she had been married before) or even co-habitting again. Admittedly she spends an awful lot of time at Neville's but I think she's happier knowing she has her own place to go back to if they start getting on each others nerves. So Neville is not legally my step dad or in a common-law kind of way either. However, he's a great guy and definitely part of the family so far as I'm concerned. Even my mum had a Freudian slip recently where she referred to both in an anecdote; calling Neville as my dad and my dad by his Christian name.

Years ago I told my mum that my dream boyfriend would be a long-distance lorry driver. Someone I could enjoy being with but wouldn't be under my feet all the time. But it was my mum who got the lorry driver in the end! Well, technically it's a white van and he's semi-retired but who's being pedantic?!

When they first got together Neville was travelling all over Europe couriering (sp?) stuff around. It wasn't long before my mother was tagging along. My mother who had insisted she was only going to stay in comfortable hotels in future CHOSE to camp in the back of a delivery van...nuts!

Often it was just random boxes of documents or supplies for pharmaceutical companies but sometimes it was working for popstars... One day my mum rang to say they were doing a job for "a group you'll never have heard of...Violent Femmes" I rather put her out because I had heard of them! She never once managed to catch me out: Morcheeba, Chicane, Hot Chip, Tori Amos... That seemed to bug her somehow. You'd think she'd actually have been pleased...

Anyway, in late 2008 I started harbouring a secret fantasy...that Neville would get a job for the European leg of New Kids On The Block's tour and let me tag along instead of my mum! It wasn't to be. The company he drove for went bust ahead of time. Never mind...

Neville with Smokey Robinson

Keep Out Of Reach Of Children

Six little words, so often noticed on everyday household items yet so rarely understood, let alone heeded.

So many people foolishly think the warning refers to the item on which the words appear - that the batteries, lighters or whatever are to be kept away from children. Wrong!!! After all many things are dangerous to children but do not carry such a warning. For example - a bottle of vodka would be hazardous in the hands (or stomach) of a child but it it is more likely a harrassed parent, driven to the edge of sanity, will be the one reaching for the bottle. For a parent to see that warning all too painfully late might be the last straw which sends them in a swan-dive off the nearest multi-storey car-park. Therefore no "keep out of reach of children" message appears on the label of the vodka bottle.

The words are, in fact, a warning to the reader to keep at a safe distance from children. Children are dangerous to your mental and physical wellbeing; they drain your resources and destroy your property.

Men take this well-meant advice far more than women. A man at the first hint of a child will often flee - literally! A woman tends to go all sappy and often doesn't realise the error of her ways until the child is a teenager...by which time the woman's hair has prematurely greyed from stress.

I can't stand children. Never could, even when I was one! How I ended up with two of the little blighters I am still not entirely sure about. "Hormones" had a lot to do with it, and a persuasive ex who subsequently fled in the best time-honoured tradition.

There are no maternal-instincts in my family. My own existence is similarly a confusion to my own mother - and she has had over 32 years to ponder the question. Perhaps instead of maternal-instincts in our genes we have a kind of hereditary insanity that causes us to have children despite despising the little beasts?

Thankfully my little monsters are not so little now; in fact I am well past the halfway stage! I hope and pray that by the time I turn 40 they will have flown the nest and I will be in peace at last...although the way things are going that peace might be more of the "eternal rest" variety... A friend of mine has rug-rat commitments until the age of 52. Rather her than me!

Can you tell I have been having some trials and tribulations with my offspring? Stealing, lies, fighting, cheating, betrayal of trust...and that's just the last 24 hours! Some days I really wonder how come I have managed to not kill them...